


A Road Less Traveled

by Social_Cocoon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Mentions of F!Warden plus a few other characters, Morrigan has feelings, most of them are sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24915277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Social_Cocoon/pseuds/Social_Cocoon
Summary: Morrigan comes across an overturned cart on the side of the road.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	A Road Less Traveled

For once, the sky was clear.

Morrigan ambled along the dirt road, in no hurry to get where she was headed. She glanced over her shoulder every so often, ready to move into the trees at the first sight of another traveler, though she never saw any. Most travelers would be on the Imperial Highway or the Brecillian Passage, many of them returning from Denerim and keeping close to each other for fear of darkspawn stragglers. Safety in numbers, and it was easier to get away when the darkspawn were occupied with the fellow beside you. Morrigan chose to walk roads that were far less traveled. She was more than capable of protecting herself against darkspawn, and she did not need nosy passersby causing trouble for her. Or for them to gossip.

She glanced back again, and this time her eyes lingered on what she had left behind. As quickly as the thoughts came, she quietly scolded herself and set her eyes firmly forward. No regrets. This was what she had wanted, and it was too late to turn back now.

At least, that was what she told herself.

She pushed on, her staff tapping on the ground at a steady beat. Birds chirped from the treetops, small animals darted from shrub to shrub every so often, and the occasional breeze would rouse the leaves. Other than that, everything was quiet. It should not have made her so uncomfortable. This was the kind of silence that she had grown up with, which had for years been so comforting to her (especially when she’d had to escape one of her mother’s latest fits of anger), yet now it made her skin itch. Now, it tugged at the small pit of uncertainty in her heart, threatening to tear it ragged.

It had been so long since she’d been truly alone. She had spent a year traveling with Ferelden’s only two remaining Grey Wardens and their party that only kept growing, the Wardens picking up just about every misfit they had come across. There had always been someone talking, or someone to talk to. Even when everyone was quiet, the shuffle of their feet and sounds of shifting armor kept total silence away. A sniffle, a cough, a quiet sigh that anyone would miss if they weren’t paying attention, _that_ was the silence she missed.

Now it was just her feet, her breaths and sighs. Now she slept alone, missing the ten people at her back. Even though she had kept her distance from them, having always set her tent up at the very edge of the camp, and even though she was hardly friendly with the majority of them, the knowledge that they were all there had still been comforting.

She wouldn’t be alone forever, at least. Her fingers brushed absentmindedly against her lower abdomen. She could feel the bump beginning to form, but it would still be a bit longer before her pregnancy became visible.

A sharp puff of air left her nose. Her, a mother. She had known it was coming for some time, but the full weight of it had been slow to hit. Her. A _mother_. The word had for so long tasted like copper in her mouth, and now she didn’t know what to make of it.

Movement in the distance caught her eye, bringing her from her thoughts. Ahead, a shape was beginning to take form on the horizon. She saw the small wooden cart fist, then the horse, then the woman, and that was all she needed. She stepped off the road before the woman could spot her, though curiosity was what kept her from immediately shapeshifting into a bird and avoiding the woman entirely.

The closer she got, the clearer the scene became. The cart sat overturned on the other side of the road, the bags it had been carrying having tumbled to the ground. The horse stood beside it, tail flicking in agitation and muscles tense. The woman, a human, was on one side of the cart, struggling to lift it back onto its wheels. She was tiny, thin, and certainly didn’t look like she ought to be out alone, especially in southern Ferelden where darkspawn still lurked.

Morrigan’s first instinct was to look to her side, expecting to see the Warden there and already rushing to help with no questions asked and wanting nothing in return. She knew better, but the turn of her eyes was automatic; she didn’t even realize what she was doing until her gaze landed on the empty space beside her. Her lips pressed into a tight line. Foolish.

The woman was still struggling and not even close to making any progress. Morrigan knew she ought to have ignored the scene altogether and continued on her way, that she had to look out for more than just herself now, that the woman would either give up and leave the cart behind or that eventually someone else might come along to help, and yet…

And yet the image of her friend stepping forward to help was stuck in her mind. And, she had chosen this road for a reason.

She stopped, closed her eyes, sighed, then turned back to the road. Damn that woman. What had she done to her?

As she stepped from the trees, her staff shrank in her hand until it was small enough to stuff into one of the pockets of her traveling cloak. She pulled off her hood and approached the cart, deliberately trying to make her footsteps loud so the woman didn’t spook. The horse was another matter. It did not jump at her sudden appearance from the woods, but did snort and step back, pawing nervously at the ground. That was what got the woman’s attention. She shot away from the cart, grabbing onto the knife at her belt but not quite pulling it out.

“Oh!” she exclaimed when she saw Morrigan approaching. Her hand stayed pressed against her belt. “You’re no darkspawn, thank the Maker.”

“That I am not,” Morrigan muttered in response, taking a few more steps until she stood on the opposite side of the cart. The woman watched her warily, taking in her clothes, her face, her bare hands raised to show she meant no harm. Slowly, she began to relax.

“You seem like you could use help,” Morrigan said with a gesture towards the cart. The woman let out a long sigh.

“That’d be nice, yeah.” She ran a hand through her curly hair and shook her head. “Something spooked my horse. I haven’t seen anything or anyone for a while, but I heard there were still darkspawn around here. Serves me right, I suppose.”

Morrigan stepped around the cart to stand beside the woman, though she kept a considerable distance between them. “’Tis odd that you would risk traveling through the south with only a knife for protection.”

“I could say the same of you.”

She only smiled. “Shall we?”

They bent down and grabbed the bottom of the cart. As they began to lift, she cast a subtle spell on the cart to make it lighter, just enough to not cause suspicion. It still took a great deal of effort to lift. Together they managed to get the cart onto its side, and then with one great heave pushed it back onto its wheels with a satisfying _thud_.

The woman leaned forward with her hands on her knees and took a moment to collect herself. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think the two of us would be able to do it,” she puffed. “You’re stronger than you look.” She wiped her forehead with the front of her dress, then straightened up and held out a hand to Morrigan. “I’m Aila. Pleased to meet you.”

Morrigan eyed her hand and made no move to take it. “Morrigan. A pleasure.”

Aila hesitated, then pursed her lips and wiped her hands on her dress. “Could I trouble you for a little longer?” she asked, glancing at the bags on the ground.

A nod, and then Morrigan turned and began picking up the bags and stuffing their spilled contents back inside while Aila inspected the cart for any damage. Most of the bags were light, some containing handmade clothing and blankets, and others holding Aila’s food and camping gear. A merchant, then. The heavier bags held trinkets and clothes that Morrigan vaguely recognized. She had seen some of these items being hawked in Denerim almost two weeks ago, the market having been choked up with merchants from all over Ferelden hoping to make any profit at all after having lost so much of their livelihood to the Blight. The city itself had been full to bursting with what seemed to be nearly the whole country, everyone scrambling to get a look at their savior, the great Hero of Ferelden. It was a title well deserved.

“Are you coming from Denerim as well?” Aila asked, in the process of soothing her horse.

“I am.” Morrigan turned a little wooden griffon statuette over in her hand before putting it away.

“Did you see the Hero of Ferelden?” Aila was getting excited now.

“I did,” she muttered. She had spent weeks watching her, in fact. Almost three months. She shouldn’t have stayed so long, shouldn’t have stayed at all, but it was harder to leave than it should have been. And nothing was ever easy with that woman.

Initially she had stayed to make sure the Warden would be alright after killing the archdemon. She trusted her mother’s magic, of course, but she could not know what effect slaying the archdemon could still have on her friend. Its soul had still passed through her, and her…screams suggested that it had not done so gently. After the explosion she had been found unconscious, and she did not wake again until a week had passed. Morrigan had spent most of her time in the form of a bird, perched on the sill of the window looking into the room of the palace where the Warden had been placed.

The room had never been empty, with at least three people keeping a constant vigil over the Warden. Morrigan had managed to slip inside only once when everyone in it had been asleep (another rarity; anxiety kept most of her former companions from getting more than a few hours of sleep, and so someone was always up), and only for a few minutes. It was enough time for her to learn that what was happening with the Warden was not something that she could heal, but it was not fatal, either.

So, she waited, telling herself that she would leave once the Warden was awake again. When her friend opened her eyes days later, Morrigan decided that she would leave once she was sure that there were no other lasting effects that had waited to show themselves until the Warden was conscious. Then it was until she could walk again, then until she was no-longer bedridden. Then it was until after the Warden received her new title and recognition, and until after the festivities died down.

She might have continued to make excuses were it not for the baby bump beginning to form. She had to leave, and she finally did, though it was hard. Even leaving Flemeth’s hut, the only home she had known until the moment she’d been sent away, had not hurt as much. But then, she had expected to return home and to her mother eventually. She would never see her friend again, and that hurt her more than anything.

Love. Was that the word for it? It didn’t feel like the love she knew – that she had _thought_ she knew. It was almost terrifying.

“ – and she must have been so brave to take on the archdemon! Don’t you think so? I think I’d have pissed myself. I mean, a dragon!” Aila exclaimed, unaware that Morrigan had not been listening to her gush on about the Warden. Morrigan just hummed in response. She had heard that a lot in Denerim, that everyone thought the Warden was so brave, so fearless, but Morrigan had seen the look on her face when they’d reached the top of Fort Drakon. The Warden was a brave woman, but bravery was not what had spurred her on then.

Morrigan knelt down and grabbed the last bag. As she placed it on the cart, Aila suddenly asked, “Would you like to join me?” Once she had lifted her eyes to meet Aila’s, the woman continued. “It’s still a long way to go until you reach the end of the road, and you could at least get off your feet. And I could certainly use your help if my cart flips over again,” she added with a sheepish grin. “Plus, you know, there are darkspawn around here. Supposedly."

She should have said no right then and there. She did not need to be slowed down or distracted any more than she already had been, and she could protect herself just fine. If Aila hadn’t properly prepared to defend herself against darkspawn, that was her own fault. Besides, the offer was conditional; had Aila known she was a mage not shackled to the Chantry she wouldn’t even have tolerated Morrigan’s presence. Her generosity only went so far.

She should have said no without hesitation. She didn’t. Loneliness was what kept her standing there, seriously considering saying yes. In Denerim, when she had not been in the form of an animal she had stayed hidden away in an abandoned hovel, careful to keep out of sight lest word of a strange woman being spotted in the city spread around. After being alone for so long, even just talking to and being seen by one person now made her feel better.

Besides, Aila was friendly. That…was something she needed right now, even if it was conditional.

“Alright.”

Aila’s face lit up immediately, and in that moment she reminded Morrigan so much of her friend.

Aila did a double-check of the cart and everything in it before climbing into the driver’s seat and settling herself beside Morrigan. She took up the reins and set the horse on a slow walk first, constantly glancing at the woods around them and tensing at every small sound. Morrigan, in contrast, was perfectly relaxed.

“So, where are you headed?” Aila asked as soon as they had set off.

“To my mother’s.”

“Oh? Where does she live?”

“In a small village to the west. I doubt you would have heard of it.”

“Try me.”

“Haven.”

Aila pursed her lips. “Alright, so I haven’t.

“What about yourself?” Morrigan asked to change the subject.

“White River. That’s my home.”

“’Tis strange that you would not be taking the Brecillian Passage, then.”

“Oh, I was for a while, but there’re too many people on that road. This way’s normally a bit longer, but at least I don’t have to deal with anyone slowing me down.”

“Except for the darkspawn.”

“Well, I haven’t actually _seen_ any. Nells here’s been a bit jumpy ever since we got chased out of White River months ago, so sometimes even the smallest things spook her.”

Hm. It was more than just a ‘bit’.

“And you have only a knife on you? You are either very brave or very foolish.”

“Or too eager to get home. Which I suppose is the same as foolish.” Aila paused. “Well, what about you? I don’t see any sword on you, or a crossbow or anything. Just a knife, right?” She grinned. “Brave, or foolish?”

Morrigan waved her hand dismissively. “I do not fear darkspawn.”

“Ah, foolish.”

“I’ve killed plenty.”

Aila’s eyebrows shot up and she quickly turned her head to give Morrigan another once-over. “Really? You don’t look like a soldier.”

“No, but still capable.” More than, she’d say.

“Huh. Alright,” Aila said, shrugging and turning her attention back to the road. “I’ll believe you.”

Good. She didn’t feel like trying to convince her.

Morrigan leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her stomach, tilting her head up to the sun and closing her eyes. As they continued on their way and the cart picked up speed, she kept her ears trained on their surroundings, and on Aila. She may have agreed to ride with Aila for the time being, but she that didn’t mean she trusted her at all. As long as she kept her hands to herself and away from that knife, they’d get along just fine.

\--

A few hours later, the cart slowed down to a crawl. When Morrigan opened her eyes, she saw that the sky had turned pink and purple and was growing darker by the second. Aila carefully maneuvered the cart off the road, then turned to her.

“Time to set up camp,” she said before jumping out of the seat. Morrigan was slow to follow, taking a moment to stretch first and pop stiffened joints.

“How much farther will it be to White River?” she asked. Aila had climbed into the back and was busy searching through her bags.

“Another day, maybe. Longer if we keep having to stop for your pee breaks,” she added with a teasing smile. The comment was ignored.

While Aila found and unloaded her camping gear, Morrigan unfurled her own bedroll and placed it behind the nearest tree. There would be no rain tonight, so she wouldn’t bother with a tent. With just a bedroll, packing up in the morning would be quicker. Though, looking at how much Aila was pulling out, it wouldn’t really matter.

“I, ah, don’t have much in the way of food,” Aila called, peering into one of the bags. “Do you like salted ham? I’ve got a bit of that. Could have sworn I had more of that salmon, though…”

“I can cook,” Morrigan replied, already searching through her own pack for ingredients. She had enough for a light vegetable soup, and though it wouldn’t be very filling, it was at least more than a bit of ham.

“Hm, you know? I think I’m beginning to fancy you.”

She had a feeling she was far from the first person Aila had said that to.

Now that Morrigan wasn’t pretending to be asleep, Aila had become quite chatty. She poked and prodded for information about Morrigan’s life while setting up her tent and getting her horse fed and settled for the night. Such questioning might have annoyed her once, but the enthusiastic and earnest way Aila went about it felt all too familiar, so Morrigan indulged her with plenty of half-truths. It was the most she had talked in weeks.

Once dinner was finished, it was Aila’s turn to lay out the details of her life. Hers wasn’t very exciting, but she embellished parts of it here and there to make up for it, making them so obviously ridiculous that Morrigan couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Every time she did, Aila’s grin would get just a little bigger, and her infectious smile would pull a smaller one from Morrigan. At the same time, Morrigan could feel her energy draining as if the other woman’s bubbly attitude was sucking her dry, but she didn’t want to end the conversation just yet. Who knew the next time she would be able to sit and talk with someone like this? She had missed having conversations like these and wanted to savor as much of the moment as she could, even the exhaustion.

“One day I’ll move to Denerim and set up shop there,” Aila said, grabbing a second helping. “Probably no time soon considering the state it’s all in, but one day. Or maybe I’ll go to Amaranthine instead if that’s where the Grey Wardens are going to be. Maybe _I’ll_ become a Grey Warden. Oh, don’t look at me like that!” she snapped when Morrigan raised an eyebrow at her. “It could happen.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“You don’t know. Just you wait, one day you might be hearing about a gorgeous Grey Warden with a suspiciously familiar name going around terrorizing darkspawn and saving damsels in distress.”

“Mhm.” Assuming the Joining didn’t kill her first.

“What about you? Would you ever think about joining the Wardens?”

Morrigan let out a scoff. “Certainly not. I have no desire to devote my life to killing darkspawn.” She’d more than had her fill of it, and that didn’t even touch on the other unsavory drawbacks to becoming a Grey Warden. “I am content with leaving the apparent glory-seeking to others.”

“Ah, well. More damsels for me.”

The moon was out in full by the time they had finished eating. Aila helped clean and clear away the dishes, then the two of them prepared themselves for bed, resolved to get an early start the next morning. As Morrigan turned to her bedroll, however, she keenly felt Aila’s eyes on her back, and once glance over her shoulder found Aila watching her, thinking.

“Is there something else you would like?” she piped up, shaking Aila back to the present moment.

“Sort of. I was just wondering, are you religious?”

Oh, not this. She was not in the mood. “I am not,” she said curtly. “It that a problem?”

“Oh, no, not at all. You didn’t seem like the type anyway, but I’ve been wrong before. I usually say a prayer before going to sleep, I was going to invite you. Me saying it still won’t bother you, I hope?”

A pause. Well. She hadn’t expected that.

“Do what you will,” Morrigan said with a dismissive wave of her hand, turning back to her bedroll. “I do not care.”

Or, she thought she didn’t, but as she lay down to sleep she found herself latching onto the sound of Aila’s quiet prayer. The words she didn’t pay attention to, just the way she spoke, and she found…comfort in it. She was reminded of Leliana and was surprised at the wistful feeling that came to her. She and Leliana had rarely ever seen eye-to-eye with religion having been a main point of contention between the two of them, and yet…

Leliana had prayed at least twice every day, once when she awoke and again before she went to bed. Morrigan could not go a day without hearing about her Maker, and it had gotten worse when Wynne joined. Eventually, however, she’d learned to tune them out, and they’d learned to stop pestering her about her lack of faith. The sounds of prayer soon became just a familiar part of life on the road, along with the sound of the Warden’s mabari barking in the distance or of the warriors training every other day. She would never have thought she would miss it or miss Leliana, but there she was, curling tighter in on herself and being as quiet as possible so as to hear every bit of Aila’s voice.

\--

Of all the side effects that came with pregnancy, she had decided that that morning sickness was, so far, the worst.

Morrigan had barely managed to make it out of sight of the camp before she was falling to her knees and vomiting up what little she had in her stomach. Even when she thought she was done, the smell of it sent her stomach churning again and began the second round. Then, when her body had no more to give, came the dry heaves.

It was painful, and disgusting, but, as she had to remind herself every morning, worth it; she had what she wanted, and her pregnancy meant that her friend was still alive. She could handle this. Of course, that didn’t mean she had to like it.

With one last shudder, she pulled herself onto unsteady feet and leaned against the nearest tree. She wiped her mouth and took a few deep breaths, angling her head away from the puddle of puke. It was very early in the morning, the world having gone from being shrouded in darkness to washed in dull blue. Birds had already begun to take up their song, and the sound brought to her mind the image of a golem. Shale probably would hate the idea of morning sickness even more than she did. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

Once her body had stopped trembling, she turned and headed back to the camp. Aila, wild-haired and sleepy-eyed, was waiting by the cold firepit with a cup in her hands, which she held out once Morrigan came into view.

“It’s just water. I figured you might want it,” she said with a drowsy smile.

“Spying on me, were you?” Morrigan muttered, but she was grateful for the water.

“What, were you trying to be subtle? You were ten feet away and moaning like you were dying.”

“I was not.”

“Sure, sure.”

While Morrigan quickly drained the cup, Aila rummaged around in a small bag at her side and pulled out a parcel which turned out to contain the salted strips of ham she had mentioned the other night. She held the parcel out to Morrigan, and it was all she could do to not outright gag. The thought of salted anything made her feel sick all over again.

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered, reaching for her waterskin. Water was about all she could stomach for now.

“You’re sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright,” Aila said with a shrug before taking a bite out of one of the strips. She watched Morrigan while she chewed, and when she opened her mouth again, Morrigan already knew what was coming.

“Sooo…you’re pregnant?”

“I am.”

Aila’s eyes lit up in an instant. “Oooh, that’s exciting! But, you’re traveling all alone? Where’s the father?”

Morrigan lifted the waterskin to her lips to stifle her snort. Alistair was not the kind of father Aila was thinking of. He could be, certainly, and she imagined that he would love to be, but not to her child. “It’s complicated,” she said, hoping that was enough of an answer to drop the subject. She didn’t want to get into her relationship with Alistair, even if she ended up crafting some sweet lie. She didn’t even want to think about it. Aila nodded like she understood.

“I’m guessing you plan on having the baby at your mother’s, then?”

Morrigan nodded, but the answer was no. Returning to her mother’s hut was just a brief detour to see if Flemeth had left anything more that would guide her in raising this unique child (though she doubted it), but she refused to stay there for more than a few days. She did not know where her child would be born, only that she would not be anywhere near Flemeth’s hut when it happened.

“Are you nervous?” Aila asked.

“No.” Not yet, anyway.

“Excited?”

Aila was more excited than she was. “A bit.”

“‘A bit’? Oh, come on! You’re going to be a mother!”

There it was again. Her, a mother. “I am still getting used to the idea,” she admitted. “I…did not plan for it to happen as soon as it did.” And that was the truth. The archdemon had shown itself much earlier than she had expected. She had hoped that more Grey Wardens from Orlais and other countries would have arrived by the time the archdemon surfaced, but nothing was ever ideal. She did not regret performing the ritual of course, only that she had to do it with Alistair, and it wasn’t because they hated each other, but because, well…

Like she’d said, it was complicated.

“I get that. I mean, I _don’t_ , because I’ve never been pregnant, but…you understand what I’m trying to get at?”

“Sure.”

Aila took another bite of ham, and a thoughtful look came over her face. “You know, if you want, you could stay at my home for a few days when we get to White River. You could sleep in a real bed, eat some real food. Not that the soup last night wasn’t great, but…” She shrugged and glanced at Morrigan’s stomach. “Figure a baby’ll need more than just soup.”

“We’ll see. I would like to get to my mother’s as soon as possible.” Still, the offer was very much appreciated, and she almost found herself inclined to take it. Almost. “Are you always so charitable with people you barely know?”

“Only the pregnant ones.”

They stayed sitting for a little longer, then both stood, stretched, and began to pack up. After Morrigan put away what little she had, she took her waterskin and Aila’s canteen and set off to refill them at the nearby creek.

As she knelt beside the water, she began to think on Aila’s offer again. She didn’t _have_ to be at Flemeth’s hut any time soon, really, and had been on the road for a while. Why not stay, at least for a night? Besides, now that she was traveling alone, it would benefit her to take advantage of the kindness of strangers, especially as she got farther along in her pregnancy. And a bed did sound nice…

A sudden scream shook her from her thoughts, and it was followed by the sounds of a panicking horse and the unmistakable grunts and gurgling cries of darkspawn. Clutching the waterskin and canteen in her hands, Morrigan jumped to her feet and sprinted back to camp. There she found four hurlocks quickly advancing on Aila who was struggling to keep her horse from bolting, but it was clear that she was losing that battle.

At that moment one of the hurlocks broke away from the group, darting forward with its jagged sword raised above its head. Nells let out a high-pitched cry, raised onto her hind legs, then broke into a run, ripping the reins from Aila’s hands. Aila stumbled and fell to the ground, grasping at the empty air and calling for her horse. The hurlock was right on top of her.

Before the darkspawn could bring its arm down, before Aila could even throw her arms over her face and scream, a large fist made of stone slammed into its side, throwing it against the nearest tree. Upon the hurlock’s impact with the tree the fist exploded, shards of rock punching through the darkspawn’s armor. It was dead in seconds.

Three left. Morrigan sprang forward and placed herself in front of Aila. The darkspawn, seeing what she had done to the other one, let out enraged screeches and charged at her, though they never came close to even breathing on her. She pulled her hands in towards her body, touching her wrists together with her palms facing the darkspawn, and when she pushed them out bolts of lightning sprang from the tips of her fingers. The lightning arced towards the darkspawn, sending each of them flying off of their feet and leaving large, smoking holes in their bodies. The bodies twitched but did not get up again.

As quickly as everything had started, it was all over. Morrigan stared at the mess and let out a sigh, covering her nose so the smell didn’t upset her stomach again. Then remembered that Aila was right behind her. Aila, who did not know that she was a mage. She turned, finding Aila still on the ground and staring wide-eyed at the darkspawn corpses. Her gaze flickered upward, and she flinched upon meeting Morrigan’s eyes. The shock on her face morphed first to fear, then settled on a place between fear and disgust.

“ _Apostate_.”

She said it like a curse, spitting it from between her teeth. The word hung heavy and dirty in the air between them. It was far from new to Morrigan, by this time it hit her differently. This time it stung, and this time it made her furious.

Idiot. She should have known better. The promise of a fleeting friendship had clouded her judgement, and now all she had to show for it was pain in her chest and a thankless, unscathed woman reaching for her knife, forgetting, it seemed, the sizzling bodies laying just beyond the firepit.

Morrigan took a deep breath, then she set her jaw and held it high. She stepped forward, ignoring how Aila scurried away, and grabbed her bag and cloak. She made a flicking motion with one hand, bringing her waterskin flying to her palm from where she had dropped it. It was an entirely harmless spell, but Aila still winced. She slung her bag around her shoulders before pulling her cloak over herself and bringing out her shrunken staff, returning it to its full size. Eyes ahead, she walked away.

The sky was full of rainclouds, growing darker and darker by the minute. Morrigan kept a steady pace down the dirt road, eager to put distance between herself and everything at her back. She did not glance behind her anymore; there was no one on this road but her. She did not think about what she had left behind; there was nothing for her there. Dwelling on it created a weakness that would only trip her up, make her soft. She was a mage, and as a mage, especially one who existed without the Chantry’s collar around her neck, her top priority was her own survival. She needed nothing and no one but herself, and to think otherwise was foolhardy and dangerous.

This was what she wanted.

That’s what she told herself.


End file.
